


There Are Devils All Around Us

by tintentod



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Artist!Steve, Bucky is Seb, Bucky loves his man-bun, Flashbacks, M/M, Memory Loss, Pining Steve, Post-Avengers, a bit angsty, a different take on the Winter Soldier, and Steve does too, but not really, in which Steve wasn't alone when the Valkyrie crashed, starting after the Lemurian Star mission, the arm is still gone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 01:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7461207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tintentod/pseuds/tintentod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve swears he wasn't alone when he puts the Valkyrie into the ice. He remembers Bucky after they captured Zola and with him on the plane, but there is no sign of him anywhere. And then there is this guy working at Urban Outfitters looking just like him and even Sam thinks it's too much of a coincidence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, well, maybe I watched Civil War one too many times, and maybe that caused me to watch every other Captain America movie too many times as well. I know I don't invent the wheel new with this story, but I hope I can bring another twist to it. Which means: get the popcorn, sit down and enjoy. I might edit the tags while I write this story [four chapters are already finished] so keep an eye out for them and tell me in case I forgot something. On a different note: please be kind! English isn't my mother tongue and me and my beta really tried to find every mistake possible. If we missed something, I'm deeply sorry.

"So, you wanna tell me what this is?"

 

Steve should have known Sam would ask about 'The Wall'. Then again, it was his own fault for not thinking about it before inviting him for a beer. By the time he rang Steve had no chance to hide the eight to sixteen feet of wall covered with files, notes, pictures, and drawings, all of them connected one way or the other by a red thread. For a while Steve thought Sam would just pretend it was totally normal covering your place with memories of a war you had fought seventy years ago, but now, after dinner and him getting their second beer for the night, Sam apparently felt comfortable enough to mention the elephant in the room.

 

With a sigh, Steve turned from the fridge to his new friend and watched him picking at the papers and following the thread from thumbtack to thumbtack as if he was trying to make sense of it himself. For a second Steve hoped he was successful because he had no idea how to explain it to Sam without sounding like he was going crazy. Although Steve had serious doubts when it came to his sanity come to think of it. He walked over to where Sam was standing, eyes still flicking from one end to the other, and handing him the cold beer.

 

The funny thing was, Steve couldn't say when he started 'The Wall', if it took him one or twenty nightmares before he gathered every information imaginable about the time before the Valkyrie went into the ice. All he knew was it went on for a very long time and the longer he thought about it, the more insane everything sounded.

 

Back when he came out of the ice, Steve went straight back into the next war. And after that there was another battle to fight, another mission to accomplish. He didn't allow himself time to think about what he had missed, about what was gone and what could have been, and while Steve was furious to hear about the cube, he was thankful he had something to do. His mind and his past were the reason to go to Washington, staying close to SHIELD HQ and with that to Peggy. Knowing she was alive gave him the reality check he needed, her crisp words about him being dramatic, saying out loud how sorry she was for him not having lived his life struck a chord so deep inside of him, it was hard to breathe. And she repeated them, not remembering she had told him that much already the last time he was around. His heart broke back when Fury filled him in on SHIELD, the founders and how Peggy was not too far away. Steve wanted to see her so badly but shied away at first after he learned about her condition. He felt helpless upon hearing what she was going through, making sure she was prepared for his visit. But no one prepared him for the pain he felt whenever she forgot about him still being alive. He could deal with it when it happened from visit to visit, giving him the time to let it sink in before he went back to see her. Sometimes she gave him her biggest smile when he entered and the dread he was feeling just disappeared. Other times he watched her going through the motion of recognizing him over and over and over again in one visit: the surprise, the shock, the joy, the sorrow. Those were the hardest times.

 

And although Peggy was still there, Steve felt more alone than he could have ever imagined. Not only because the only people he had known were dead. It was hard for him to connect with the new age, trying to adjust as best as he could in the spare time he had between missions. Still, there was a barrier between him and everyone else, one he probably built himself, one he couldn't tear down. The few new faces in his life looked at him as this walking joke or worse as this national hero, a myth he didn't feel he could live up to. If he wasn't 'The Walking Popsicle', he was 'The Star Spangled Man with a Plan' and if that wasn't enough he just became that 'Old Man'. At first, Steve tried to live with it. With every joke made on his expense his smile grew thinner, more stretched, until it became empty and he just zoned out. It was easier to go with it than to fight people who just replied 'it was all in good fun'. But to him it was not and admitting he was hurting wasn't an option, not when there were battles to fight. 

 

Besides, who was there to turn to? When Steve was with Peggy, he wanted to talk about anything but what was on his mind, rather spending their precious time with creating happy memories. And as much as he liked Natasha, Steve couldn't picture himself sitting down with her and having a heart to heart. When on a mission they were completely in sync and occasionally they would text in their free time, but that was about it. If it was Natasha who kept her distance or if Steve was the one shying away from letting her in, he couldn't say. Which was actually a shame because he admired her and Clint's friendship, if that was all there was to it, and was sure she was a good friend when she allowed someone so close. 

 

All of this considered, Steve still couldn't say why he had reached out to Sam that morning a couple of weeks ago. Unlike Steve, he didn't seem to run from his nightmares although from what they talked about he was sure Sam had enough of those. Yet there was something familiar about the figure he saw nearly every morning, running the same lap in their own pace. Steve allowed himself to assume Sam was at peace with himself and his life and he couldn't deny he envied him for that. 

 

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Sam spoke up again, ripping Steve from his thoughts.

 

Steve could tell what Sam saw worried him, and probably rightfully so, but a tiny voice inside of Steve encouraged him to open up. If only to have it said out loud once, maybe remembering something he had missed. 

 

Steve sipped on his beer and let the cool liquid run down his throat, eyes on one particular sketch he had made and like always when he looked at it, anxiety and hope was battling in his stomach. Before it could get any worse, he turned to Sam with a tired smile. 

 

"It will sound crazy..."

 

"There is no such thing as crazy where I come from. I was just curious. That's all. No need to worry." Steve knew Sam was talking in his counselor voice, this soothing, even tone he had heard the one time he visited Sam at the VA. It was just hard to tell if Sam did it deliberately or if it came naturally. 

 

"Maybe we should sit down for this." Sam probably thought Steve was avoiding his question while all Steve needed was to get away from 'The Wall', at least for as long as it took for him to explain everything. They turned to the couch, the sound of the jazz record Steve had put on still playing softly in the background; he was sure Sam was the first not commenting on his choice. 

 

It took Steve another sip of his beer and a deep breath before he allowed himself to speak up again. "After they thawed me..."

 

To is surprise, Sam already interrupted him. "Before you continue, I need to apologize, man. When we first talked, I was rather thoughtless. I guess Captain Rogers approaching me at the ass-crack of dawn does things to my brain."

 

Unlike every other person Steve had met, Sam always referred to him as Captain Rogers for which Steve was forever grateful. Yet, he remembered all too well what his friend was talking about. He would be lying if he said Sam's flippant question hadn't stung. All air left his body the second Sam asked about the 'whole defrosting', but after a couple of weeks of knowing each other Steve just knew it wasn't meant in a malicious way. And that joke only confirmed that.

 

"It's okay, Sam. It's definitely not the worse that’s been said to me. I guess I deserved that much after showing you up." 

 

"You will never let me live that one down, right? Fine. Whatever. I know when I'm beaten." 

 

Despite the easy banter and the smile on Steve's face, he still felt uneasy as he picked up where Sam interrupted him. "After they thawed me, all I wanted was to go back to what I knew. Mostly because I was not sure where I belonged. Having SHIELD sending me on missions came as a blessing to me, it distracted me from my memories, but in-between I was left on my own and as you can imagine a lot came rushing back to me.  
I'm still trying to figure out which of those memories are real and which I just made up, but there is one thing I'm actually very sure about." 

 

It was weird how the mere thought of speaking left Steve nearly breathless, turning him back into that little asthmatic kid who couldn't take a normal flight of stairs without gasping for air. His fingers were picking on the label of the bottle, eyes only flicking up and meeting Sam's as he found the courage to say what had been on his mind for months now.

 

"I was not alone as I crashed the Valkyrie."

 

"You mean Schmidt?"

 

"No. Schmidt vaporized, the cube made sure of that. No, Sam. Someone was with me on that plane besides Schmidt. It was Bucky."

 

Steve watched Sam intently, noticing his eyebrows rising as Steve dropped that bomb on him. Seconds passed in which neither of them moved or spoke and for a short moment Steve regretted saying anything at all, but then Sam shifted and leaned closer. "Go on."

 

"I...I have these memories. Of him. Of us on that plane. Before you say anything, I've read his file and him falling off that train. Sam, I know I saved him. I know because I remember what happened afterwards." Although Steve had suggested they sit down, he got up again, putting the beer down on the table before he walked back to 'The Wall'. He didn't have to look to know Sam was following him.

 

"This?" Steve pointed to a drawing and a file that was mostly blacked out. "This was after we got on the train and captured Zola. It was Gabe, Bucky, Zola and me in the transporter. I've never seen Bucky so angry, ready to attack any given second. I watched him more than I watched Zola, worried he would snap his neck the second I wasn't looking. You probably should know..."

 

"Zola experimented on Barnes as he was captured in Azzano. I did my homework," Sam said, eyes wandering over the drawing Steve pointed to.

 

"We never talked about what exactly happened, but something wasn't quite right. War does that to you, but even the rest of the Howling Commandos said something died when Zola took him. So of course I expected for Bucky to be at least relieved knowing Zola was captured and couldn't do God knows what to other POWs. All was well, until we arrived at our camp. Zola did not once look at Bucky, nearly crawling in on himself, but the second we got out of the transporter, he said something to Bucky." With every word Steve spoke, the memory became even clearer to him and for a moment he thought he could smell the scent of pinewood and gun oil mixed with the sound of soldiers chatting. 

 

"What did he say?"

 

"Something in Russian. I didn't understand it, but it was as if Zola flipped a switch inside of Bucky's head. Before I could react he launched forward, hands around Zola's neck. I had to drag him away so he wouldn't kill him. Later I talked to Gabe. He could speak at least five languages and I hoped he understood what Zola had said for Bucky to react this way. Gabe said it was the Russian word for longing."

 

As Steve turned back to Sam, he found him as surprised as he expected he would be. "Longing?"

 

"Gabe admitted he couldn't be sure because he was too surprised about what happened in that moment, but it was what he thought he heard."

 

"And did you talk to Bucky about it?"

 

"I can't remember." And here was the flaw in Steve's confession. He could remember many things, some before the train and some after, but not everything. It was exactly what made it so hard for Steve to tell if what he was saying was true. 

 

"Let’s say he was with you on that plane, why would SHIELD pretend he wasn't?"

 

Steve shrugged and hung his head in defeat. "I don't know, Sam. I wrote down everything I can remember after the train, tried to find every file and drew the pictures my mind came up with, but whenever I try to put the pieces together everything vanishes in thin air. I have other memories. About me being in the ice but I'm awake, unable to get out. I just can't say if those are real memories or nightmares."

 

The more Steve said, the tighter the feeling in his chest became. He felt as if he was going crazy, now even more so that he let Sam in and said out loud what his mind came up with. He was desperate for someone to tell him everything was fine, explain to him everything would make sense sooner or later, but he wasn't sure where to turn to. As he dared look at Sam, he found him staring at him in shock.

 

"Do you think it’s possible? You being awake while you were in the ice?"

 

Somehow hearing the horror of this being possible was too much for Steve to handle. He didn't dare open his mouth to form a reply right away, only shaking his head as he turned and walked back to the couch where he flopped down and reached for his beer. "I don't know. I never told anyone about this. Any of this. I was hoping I could make sense of it, but the more I look at it the more confusing it becomes."

 

Steve heard Sam approaching, this time sitting down right next to Steve. He didn't expect for him to reach out and place his hand on his shoulder. "I would be lying if I said I have any idea how you must be feeling, but I can give you my honest opinion on this."

 

Instead of a reply, Steve turned his head and looked over at Sam. 

 

"Let’s assume for a short moment this is what happened, you waking up. It could be your mind trying to fill these moments with those you have pinned on that wall. Coping mechanism. It's not unusual and not unlikely. Those memories are definitely happier than you not being able getting yourself out of the ice." 

 

Steve thought about it for a moment. What Sam said made a lot of sense and for a fleeting moment he wanted to believe it was this simple, although Sam would give him a piece of his mind if he knew Steve thought of this horrible experience as simple. But a small voice, the one who sounded a lot like Bucky, told him this was real. Bucky being in the same plane as him was real.

 

"Option number two, and I can't even believe I’m saying this, is just as terrible. Bucky was with you on that plane and you only remember now because you allow yourself some time between those missions. If this is the case, though, then I can see a big problem right in front of you. If Bucky was with you on that plane, then why would SHIELD, the same organisation that sends you out to battle their fights, lie to you and pretend he died days before that plane crash?"

 

"This is one of the things I can't make any sense of. From what I could gather in the files that were accessible to me, Bucky wasn't mentioned once after capturing Zola. As for what they have blackened out, it's mostly about the location of the facility and the camp." With a sigh, Steve leaned back against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. "When I can't trust my own brain, what does that make me?"

 

He didn't have to see Sam to know the way he was looking at him and it carried in his voice, thick with worry. "Steve, when was the last time you had a full night’s sleep?"

 

"I dunno," he answered truthfully, giving a little shake of his head as he sat up again and looked at Sam. "I don't like waking up with more images I can't be sure of what they are. Not until I make sense of all of this."

 

"Man, you need to rest. The longer you stay awake the more your mind will be playing tricks on you. I’ll come and visit you in a padded cell any time, but I would rather not." 

 

As good as it felt for Steve sharing his burden, he felt just as bad for worrying Sam. Sure, he did have a point, but it was hard for Steve to allow himself to rest when he knew the outcome. 

 

"And I guess sleeping pills won't work on you?"

 

"Depending on the amount I might get dizzy," Steve admitted as he gave Sam a thankful pat on the back. "Anyway, thank you, Sam. I appreciate you listening to my madness. Just don't worry, I will be fine." As hard as it was for Steve to put his brave face back on, he knew he couldn't fool Sam one second. 

 

"Did you think about coming down to the VA? It could help you. Just the group sittings and you don't have to talk yourself. Listening to others, hearing you are not alone in this..."

 

This wasn't the first time Sam hinted at Steve joining, but this time Steve was giving him a good reason to bring it up again. The one time Steve visited Sam at the VA he had caught the last five minutes of the group meeting, listening to their stories and how they were trying to cope. Back in 1945 you were sent home with a salute, told to get back to your everyday work; PTSD, depression, anxiety disorder, was unknown by that time. And now there was all the help in the world. As much as Steve appreciated it, in this moment he didn't want to part from those new memories, from the idea of having more to cling to when it came to Bucky. Steve was downright frightened to be proven wrong because even if Bucky had been with him on the Valkyr, it didn't mean he had survived as well.

 

"Promise me to think about it, Steve. You don't have to visit my group, there are others. It is just an option I hope you won't rule out for you." With that Sam got up, still looking down at Steve as if he was waiting for an answer.

 

"I will." Steve got up as well and walked him to the door, once again patting him on the back in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture, but he could feel how tense Sam was and he wondered if saying anything at all had been a mistake in the long run. Before he, or Sam, could say anything else on that matter, he opened the door and froze as he saw his neighbor in front of her own apartment. She looked over at the two, giving him a soft smile before she wished them a good night and let herself in. 

 

"Or, you know, you could always ask her for a cup of coffee," Sam offered as he stepped out into the hallway, turning to Steve with a little smile on his lips. He nearly sounded like Natasha and for a short moment Steve wondered if those two got in touch in one way or another; it was definitely not beyond Natasha. 

 

"Too much right now," Steve said right away. It was not that he didn't think about asking, after all under the suit and behind that shield Steve was just a guy like everyone else.

 

At least Sam seemed to understand his decision and let the matter rest as he wished Steve a good night. 

 

Steve had hoped for distraction, not for dragging Sam into this mess. Although, thinking about Sam's reaction, Steve had a good guess what his opinion was. Why else would he have suggested the VA again if it wasn't for him thinking Steve had imagined everything? It would make everything so much easier, but whatever it was he couldn't let it go. He walked back into the living room and stopped in front of 'The Wall', looking at the latest addition to it. It was a drawing of Bucky, clinging to Steve's seat in the Valkyrie as he looked down at him, a scared smile on his lips and a tear on his cheek. Whichever fate Bucky had endured, neither the fall off the train nor the crash into the ice was what he had deserved and for a short moment, one that came back to Steve every other day, he wished they had never found him because everything was better than being reminded he couldn't save Bucky.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for updating once a week :'D sorry about that, but life wasn't kind in the last weeks. BUT here is the next installment. I can't say when I'll put up the next one, but I hope it won't take two weeks. My friend and I edit the story whenever we have the time, so please be patient. Thanks for the kudos and bookmarks and comments.

A week passed before Steve decided to give Sam's suggestion a try, even if it only was to humor him. He could tell he was worried, his phone calls and texts told Steve that much, so maybe seeing him among the faces in the group would appease him. Still, it was strange for Steve to step into this room of soldiers. And soldiers they were. It was in the way they carried themselves walking into the room, how they held their bodies, how some of them flinched at certain sounds, their haunted looks. Steve knew all of it, having seen it far too many times at the front. Something else Steve was familiar with were the knowing looks as he entered the room. Some of them only glancing at him before they turned back to their conversation or to their coffee in hands. Others, though, looked at him as if they were seeing a ghost. Understandingly so. Captain America was the poster boy for the war, everyone wanted to be as brave and patriotic and invincible as him, so of course no one expected for him to join their little group of damaged goods, of what the war had left of them. 

 

He gave some of them a curt nod, once a smile, as he sat in the back of the room, waiting for Sam to start the meeting. Although he had tried to arrive at a decent time, neither too late nor too early, he felt like time didn't pass, becoming more and more aware of the unbelieving looks he was getting. His skin was crawling and he wanted to disappear, thoroughly tempted to get up and leave before Sam could see him. But before he could change his mind, a guy two rows in front of him turned to him, a shy smile on his lips which Steve returned. He wasn't sure what he expected for him to say, but a simple, "Thank you," wasn't it. 

 

Steve wasn't sure what to do or say, uncertain what he was being thanked for. Yet he didn't have the time to ask as Sam stepped to the little desk at the front and greeted them. His eyes wandered over the rows and stopped at him for a moment longer, only the briefest flicker of a smile on his lips before he checked who else was there. Like the last time, people shared their stories. One of them, a staff sergeant, told his story of how he had hidden amongst the dead bodies of his comrades, covering himself with their blood and bowels so he wouldn't be found. Steve listened, his stomach dropping as the staff sergeant continued of the horrors he endured for two days before the hostiles left and he was allowed to come out of his hiding, the guilt he was feeling of using his dead friends to survive. Even after seventy years the stories stayed the same, but the faces changed. Silence settled over the group as the man finished, shaking from going through his memories again and getting up to catch some air. Sam was torn between following and staying, but as Steve looked at the retreating back of the staff sergeant he found someone else approaching him. Everyone of the people in the room seemed either to be in shock or thrown back to their own horrors and Steve could tell even Sam struggled to compose himself. The other stories that followed weren't any easier, one of the women talked about how she always saw her dead friends: while at the grocery store, on the highway, sitting on her couch. 

 

After a while Steve wondered how this could make things better for them. Knowing you are not alone made things easier, but here it only seemed to drag you deeper and deeper, but then the guy in front of Steve spoke up.

 

"I know we are not supposed to mention if we know someone in the group or not, but I guess everyone noticed the rookie behind me. I definitely don't want to make him feel uncomfortable and I apologize in advance, but as I saw him step in I thought, holy shit, this is him. This is Captain Rogers. What is he doing here? A guy like that can't be as wrecked and disturbed as I am. And maybe he isn't, but it doesn't mean he didn't go through the same as me or any of the others in here. He fought seventy years ago, and apparently he is still fighting now. And that gives me hope. Whatever it is he is battling, he still gets up in the morning, he still suits up and protects us. He doesn't give up." 

 

 _"As long as there is life in him he will suit up and protect us."_ A voice, much fainter, like a soft whisper echoed in Steve's mind before he could make sense of it a new memory came rushing back to him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to grasp at everything thrown his way. 

 

_It was dark and he was on his way to his tent, Bucky and the rest of the Howlies sitting around a fire and talking when an unfamiliar voice came closer from the opposite direction._

_"What is he doing here? I mean, he is a lab rat. It worked, but it doesn't mean he won't go crazy on us sooner or later."_

_Steve was too far away to make out a face, but apparently the Commandos knew the soldier speaking._

_"Are you talking about our Cap?" That was Dum Dum, the warning in his voice already so thick, you could cut it with a knife._

_"So what if I talk about your Captain? He doesn't even deserve that rank, sticking with it because you kiss his ass and for what exactly?"_

_It was funny, Steve thought in that moment, how that man was speaking out what he was thinking all the time. Maybe not the freaking out part, he didn't notice any changes in his behavior, but the rest was pretty much what Steve had wondered for a while. He had seen the curious and sometimes downright disgusted looks he got. They were few and far between, most of the soldier looking at him in awe._

_"Oh. Dunno, dickface, maybe because he rescued your ass back in Azzano just as he did with ours. As far as I know no one else was giving a flying fuck about one of us back there," again Dum Dum and Steve knew he should speak up, ending it himself, but he couldn't. It was so unlike him hiding here and listening to people fighting over him, but something was holding him back._

_The soldier laughed, harsh and bitter and Steve felt sick hearing it. "Right. Rescuing us. I think the words you actually wanted to say were he was there to save his precious sergeant. Word got out he only got so excited about breaking rules when he heard Barnes was there."_

_Up until this moment Bucky silent and when he spoke up, hisvoice laced with sarcasm. "What, Hicks? Jealous? I'm sure I can get him to sign something for you."_

_The Commandos laughed, but then there was movement and Steve got closer to have a look. Dum Dum, Morita, Bucky and Gabe were on their feet the second the other soldiers came even closer._

_"Laugh all you want. Everyone knows he nearly screwed up today’s mission because of you, Barnes."_

_The silence wasn't a good one and Steve could see Bucky looking over at Dum Dum and then to Gabe. "What are you talking about?"_

_"Gabe, didn't you need backup? In the train? And where was your Captain again? Right. Saving Barnes’ ass."_

_"Who told you I needed back up? The situation was under control. We got Zola, didn't we? Besides how do you know about that?" Steve could tell Gabe was at a loss what this was about, but it didn't change how tense Bucky was; it would only take one more word from Hicks and Bucky would be at his throat._

_"All I am saying is that I hope your precious little lab rat will risk as much for everyone else who isn't Barnes."_

_Steve saw Dum Dum grab Bucky's wrist, holding him in place as Hicks and his friend disappeared into the night. "Let him talk. Although I would like to know what this last bit was about."_

_Gabe was already sitting down, looking at the fire. "I think I know what he means. Someone probably heard me saying more back up would have been great, but I didn't mean...Monty had been on the train as well and I knew we needed someone at base." He looked seriously distraught and Bucky's next words probably didn't ease the tension._

_"Does it matter? People have their opinion and the tiniest spark will only light the fire. What no one gets is, he would do this for everyone. I'm nothing special. As long as there is life in him he will suit up and protect us. He doesn't give up. And we should never doubt him."_

_No one had stopped Bucky as he got up and left the rest of the Commandos around the fire, but Steve still wished until this day he had had the courage to stop him and tell him Steve wasn't the man Bucky made him out to be because he couldn't say for sure he would do all of this for the rest of them._

The sound of applause ripped Steve back into the present and as he looked up he found people looking at him as if they were expecting him to say something. But all he could think about was this new memory, another fragment of the time after Bucky's not-fall from the train. His heart was hammering in his chest and he was ready to bolt out of the room and back home, to draw the way the Commandos had sat around the fire, how Bucky had stared right into the flame as he said "I'm nothing special". Those words tore on his every heart string and he remembered how it had felt back then, when all he wanted was for Bucky to know how special he truly was to him. 

 

The crawling under his skin got even worse with every second that ticked by in which people were looking at him and before he thought he would lose it, Sam spoke up

 

"I'm sure Captain Rogers appreciates your sentiment, but remember why we are all here. Because of your story and the battle you are fighting, and each battle is different from the other. Focusing on what others have endured will only distract you from how far you have come yourself. Remind yourself every day, no matter what you are carrying with you made you the person you are right now. Be proud of who got you this far." 

 

Steve felt Sam's eyes on him, but he didn't look up, instead he focused on his hands, fingers picking on his nails.

 

"Alright, we’ll see each other next time. If anyone wants to sign up for a one-on-one session, the list is right here." 

 

Slowly people got up, flittering out of the room. The guy in front of Steve not even looking at him again as he left; Steve guessed Sam's little speech had made him realize this was not the right place for hero worshipping. He stayed in his place for a while longer, only looking up as he was sure he and Sam were the only ones. 

 

"Sorry, Steve. I didn't see this one coming," Sam apologized as he stepped closer to where Steve was sitting, taking the seat in front of him.

 

"It's alright. I kind of expected a reaction, I just didn't expect to be put on another pedestal."

 

"You want a one-on-one? I'm sure Robin could..."

 

Before Sam could finish, Steve shook his head. "No, I will...I will try my luck with the meetings first. It's nothing I can't handle." Among others Steve could disappear, that was if they let him. But being the center of attention, the expectation of him opening up and pouring his heart out, was something he deeply dreaded. If Sam was disappointed Steve couldn't say for sure, but he was definitely still worried. Which was why Steve didn't tell him about the new bit of memory coming back to him. 

***

Steve had considered going back to the next meeting, but there was no time for another one. On his way back to his apartment, Steve got a text from Natasha. They had located a Hydra base in Finland close to the Russian border. Despite their intel the mission was harder than they thought it would be. According to their information only a handful of Hydra operatives were supposed to be at the location, but the second they made their way inside they were faced with at least five dozen soldiers. Maybe it was the surprise or the fact Steve hadn't slept for at least a week or how his hands itched to put his memories into words and pencil strokes, but one unwatchful moment and Natasha was down. Seeing her on the floor filled Steve with dread; he knew he had to get her out of here and his instincts kicked in again. Together with Rumlow and the STRIKE team they got their way out, Steve carrying Natasha to the quinjet, not for a moment thinking about their defeat. All Steve cared about was Natasha's pulse still beating strong and the bullet wound in her hip. 

 

"Don't look like someone killed your puppy. I will be fine," Natasha mumbled as one of the team looked at the wound, confirming what Steve had hoped for: the bullet went right through and hadn’t hit any important organs. 

 

"I'm more concerned about what Clint will do to me," Steve joked, but he couldn't shake how sorry he was. This was clearly his fault and apparently Natasha thought the same, even if she hid it behind a smile.

 

"I think after what happened on the Lemurian Star we are even now. Don't worry about Clint. Not that he gets any say anyway."

 

Steve stayed by her side during the flight back and even after their return to the HQ he followed her until a doctor took over, once again assuring him she was fine and not much damage had been done. As soothing as it was knowing Natasha would be as good as new, Steve couldn't shake the nauseating feeling in the pit of his stomach. Like Hicks had said all those years ago, Steve's thoughts were with Bucky. Even more so now that he couldn't distinguish between reality and fantasy. 

 

"Cap?"

 

Startled, Steve turned around and saw Rumlow a couple of steps away from him. Judging by the look on his face he had been speaking to Steve for a while.

 

"Come again?" 

 

"I said it wasn't your fault."

 

He knew, he was supposed to be thankful Rumlow thought that much, but they both knew it wasn't true. "The intel was wrong, but we should have been prepared for any kind of situation. I wasn't and Natasha took the bullet. Where I come from this pretty much sounds like it's my fault."

 

At least Rumlow didn't argue with him, only giving a short nod before he turned around and left. Although Steve was relieved to be left alone, he knew it wasn't what he needed. Not when guilt was nagging at his every seam and he was ready to pull himself apart. Steve felt defeated and he wished he could hide in the comfort that was sleep, but he knew it was only wishful thinking. Instead of sleeping, Steve found himself sitting outside on the fire escape with his sketch pad and was drawing, sketching the moments his brain provided him from that night. He sketched how Dum Dum was holding Bucky back; the way Gabe sat down between the rest of the Commandos, head in hands; Bucky looking into the fire as he said he wasn't someone special. Steve felt like he was on a mission all over again, knowing he needed to find out the truth although it wouldn't change the outcome either way. He needed to make sense of the possibilities of lies being told to him, the reasons behind it and he had to see Bucky in the one way or the other because if he had been with Steve it meant he was somewhere here, in this century. His heart beat faster and faster and only when he noticed he was close to hyperventilating did he stop and look at what he had drawn. Under the picture of Bucky looking at the fire, Steve had drawn him in his sleep...no, Steve corrected himself. This was not sleep. The way Steve had drawn him looked a lot like the picture Steve had seen of himself, trapped under the ice before they had retrieved his body and noticed he was still alive. There were ice crystals on his lashes and ice around him, preserving him as it had Steve.

 

With a sob Steve squeezed his eyes shut, heels of his hands pressed against them in a vain attempt to erase this picture from his mind. This was not the way he wanted to remember Bucky, fully aware that no matter the outcome he wouldn't get his best friend back alive. Steve had only one way to keep him this way and so he opened his eyes again and turned the page. He needed to stop to get a new one soon, he only had three, maybe four pages left. It was probably the fifth or sixth he had filled in the past weeks, constantly trying to capture what little his mind gave him to work with. Sometimes it was only a limb or body part, other times whole scenes. He was desperate to get them on paper in a vain attempt of prying them from his brain, as if every single one of them was another puzzle piece and all he needed to solve the riddle was putting it together. 

 

Steve looked down at the hand he was trying to capture. A hand holding a glass of scotch, lifted up to empty it. Bucky's hair was dishevelled that night, fingers constantly running through it out of nervousness. Steve couldn't remember the last time he had seen Bucky like this, but all fidgeting was gone the second the Howlies stopped singing and Peggy stepped through that door. In this moment he was the Bucky he knew, the one who could go into a dance hall and dance with every girl he wanted, so full of himself and arrogant and everything Steve wanted to be. But this was not the Bucky he was trying to capture. No, Steve tried to capture the quiet Bucky, the one who befriended a sickly, skinny kid and stuck to his side through thick and thin. 

 

The sound of his phone ripped him from his thoughts and as he looked up, he groaned, neck stiff from the hours of looking down at this pad. He was surprised to find it was already dawn, the sky painted in a glowing orange. For a moment, he looked out at the city and he couldn't help but miss Brooklyn even though it was nothing like he remembered it. Some corners were just the same, but it was different from what felt like home. Then again, maybe it was the company that was missing. Before his mind could wander any further, he finally looked at his phone and frowned. It was a text from Natasha, telling him Fury wanted to see them in an hour. Enough time for a quick shower and a slice of toast before he got on his bike and made his way back to HQ. It shouldn't have surprised him for Fury to call them in, but even Natasha looked worried as he found her standing in front of Fury's office. 

 

Without a word, she knocked at the door and let them in just in time to see one of the holo screens switch off. 

 

"You both look like you are on your way to the gallows," Fury said first thing, eye switching back and forth between Natasha and Steve. "Scared I will read you the riot act? About how our best soldier together with our best STRIKE team couldn't take out fifty hostiles and one of ours got hurt in the process?"

 

"We got false intel..."

 

"I was not talking to you, Romanoff," Fury cut her off right away, focusing solely on Steve. "I was talking to you, Cap. I don't care what is clouding your judgment or if you couldn't sleep well. If you go out there, you give your best. If you can't do that..."

 

"Sir..." Steve felt as if he knew what was coming and it was the last thing he wanted to happen, but before he could explain himself, or rather come up with a good enough lie, Fury took over again.

 

"Don't 'Sir' me, Rogers. I wasn't finished. You will be on leave. Take two weeks, hell, make it three. Straighten out your priorities and then come back. Same for you, Romanoff. I don't want to see your face here until you are cleared. Understood?"

 

From the corner of his eye Steve saw Natasha giving a curt nod. Her silence told Steve how unhappy she was about this ordeal, and while he wasn't too happy about it either the events of the previous day changed his perception. He needed to find out the truth and Fury gave him enough time to do so. His mind was already wandering to what he would need, who he had to call to ask for the one or other favor as Fury spoke up again, reading Steve's silence completely wrong.

 

"Before you ask, Stark will lend us a hand. Same goes for Warmachine. And as far as I know we have some archer running around somewhere we can call in if necessary. The world won't stop spinning just because you are not protecting it for a while. So I ask again, did you understand me?"

 

Steve nodded as he said, "Understood."

 

"I will pretend this was a satisfying reply," Fury replied, already looking down at the file on his desk, a clear sign they were dismissed. 

 

Steve didn't even wait for Natasha as he headed out of Fury's office. He didn't notice as the door slammed into the wall or how Natasha was hurrying after him, only stopping as he felt her hand on his shoulder. 

 

"What is wrong with you, Rogers?" As Steve looked down at her, he found her eyes just as worried as Sam's, a look that didn't sit well with Steve. He didn't want people worrying about him, it was probably something he would never completely shake. He wasn't the sick, little kid anymore, and still he felt fragile when people looked at him like this, reminding him there was more to break than just bones and skin, something no serum in the world could fix.

 

"I probably should ask you how you are doing," he replied, knowing right away Natasha wouldn't allow him to distract her from her actual question.

 

"I'm standing and breathing. I guess that is as good as it gets at the moment. What about you?" Feeling her hand slipping into his startled Steve and his eyes flicked from hers to their fingers, loosely entwined. He could imagine how it would seem to anyone passing and for a short moment he enjoyed the touch. Natasha was always kind to him, but kept her distance and although he knew she deserved some kind of explanation, he didn't allow himself to let another one in on the mess that was his mind no matter how much he would appreciate her skill set.

 

"Same as you. Maybe not as steady as you, but it will pass. And I know you don't wanna hear this, but I'm sorry. I should have covered your six."

 

Her smile was sweet as she gave a shrug in an attempt to look dismissive. "Bye bye bikinis."

 

"Yeah, I bet they will look horrible on you now." He gave her hand a soft squeeze before he pulled it back. "Look, now that we both have some time off, there are things I want to take care of."

 

"Just don't be a stranger. You can call me any time, Rogers. Somehow even in our vacation we are in this together." The unspoken offer touched Steve, making him wonder if he could trust her enough to call her up on that offer, but before he could ask, Natasha added, "It was a matter of time until you slipped, Steve. No one is that perfect. It makes you human."

 

So few words and still Steve thought he understood what Natasha was telling him. The idea of her accepting him because he slipped seemed absurd, but not much made sense to him at the moment so he was in no position to actually question her. "I will call you. Take care of yourself," Steve said, giving her another smile before he headed out of the building and made his way back home, but not before stopping for some groceries, knowing he wouldn't leave his apartment for the next couple of days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are love ^^


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay another chapter. Thanks to one of my besties or taking the time out of her schedule to sit down and look at the mess I create. Also a big thank you to the people reading, commenting and leaving kudos. It means a lot. Hope you enjoy this one.

Leaning against the back of his couch, Steve looked at 'The Wall'. For the past week he had done nothing else but draw, write down notes and rearrange the timeline in hopes of finding a clue what he was looking for. He knew no one would believe his theory if he couldn't come up with a solid proof, one he didn't come up with out of thin air. Steve still thought of Sam's words, how his brain could have created all of these memories to keep him sane in the ice. It was a possibility Steve didn't rule out, but would only accept and deal with once he eliminated any doubt of Bucky still being around. He didn't hang up the painting he drew of him in the ice, not wanting to think what state Bucky would be in if he found him. For now the way to finding Bucky was more important than anything else. 

 

It astonished him how people would believe he would have left him in that ravine in the alps in case he did fall off that train. Steve knew this point could have been easily argued about them being at war and having to fight Schmidt, but no one knew how far he was willing to go for Bucky. To Steve it was still a miracle how someone like Bucky ever befriended him. He remembered seeing him in the neighborhood, playing baseball with the other kids, how everyone was just drawn to him. The easy smile and kind attitude and Steve was so jealous. Not only of the other kids who were friends with him, but also of Bucky himself. Steve couldn't play baseball without nearly fainting, his lungs didn't allow him to strain his body too much. Hell, he wasn't even sure if lifting the bat had been possible back then. But Steve had watched him, thinking he was always out of sight; after all the other kids did love making fun of him. Apparently he hadn't been as sneaky as he thought he had been because one day they were cornering him. Bucky hadn't been with them, but Steve had watched all the same, leaving before the game was over just to be confronted by one of Bucky's friends. They had pushed him, hit and kicked him and Steve only wished for them to get bored and for Bucky not to come and see them. Or worse even join them. 

 

But then Bucky had come and he had joined in, but to everyone’s surprise he’d taken Steve's side, fighting the rest of them of to give Steve time to catch his breath. He’d helped Steve up, brushing his clothes off and when he’d looked at him, his jaw bruised and lip split open and still wearing this radiating smile and all Steve remembered was for Bucky saying, "You are Steve Rogers, right?"

 

After that moment they had been inseparable. Bucky's friends had avoided them all together, but that didn't mean Steve didn't have fights to fight. And Bucky, no matter how little he approved of Steve's short temper, he had always been there with him. Sometimes only asking after the battle was over what the whole fuss had been about. Who in their right mind thought Steve would leave Bucky behind when Bucky had always been there for him?

 

He ran his hands over his face, ignoring the beard that was slowly growing, trying to rub the sandpaper feeling from his eyes. Steve did occasionally sleep, if only for an hour or two to give his body a rest, and he ate and even found time to shower but other than that he had only left his apartment once for the day he went back to the Smithsonian. After he heard of the exhibit of him, he felt himself at a loss of words. The Howling Commandos were mentioned, but they were portrait as a part of Steve's life, which was true, but it didn't change the fact Steve thought it was too much. His life was his own and yes, what happened to him could be called a miracle for all he cared, but all he wanted was some rest, some peace and quiet which he wasn't granted. Now, Steve decided, this could help him with his search for the truth. He was pretty sure not everything the Smithsonian had of him was on display and sure enough, as he called and asked, he found there were a couple of boxes stored away. Steve tried not to get upset about how they didn't think of sending it to him right away but only after asking for his belongings, instead he stayed calm and mentioned he would come and pick it up himself. Once at the museum he asked if it was okay for him to have a look at everything else, but got told SHIELD confiscated every item that didn't belong to Steve, although the curator was sure they went through Steve's boxes as well. The information left a bad taste in his mouth and he wondered why SHIELD wanted any of Morita's or Deniere's private stuff. He was tempted to ask how those even got to the Smithsonian, but was sure he wouldn’t have liked the answer anyway.

 

Back home he went through three boxes of memories. Nothing that triggered anything new, in fact now that he was looking at it he felt as if a lot was missing. There was a sketchbook with a couple of drawings left, but there were signs of pages being ripped out. And while this was nothing out of the ordinary, he was very careful with his art supplies. Never would he just rip a page out, instead he always cut them out very carefully with a knife so he wouldn't nip the page underneath. He put it aside and looked at the rest. Some moth-eaten clothes, his old military file, one of the shorts he had worn during the USO tour. Of course the more interesting parts were on display, but he still had hoped for the one or other piece which would fit his theory. 

 

Now he was sitting in between memorabilia of a time long gone and still so close he felt like he was trapped between two eras in search of a ghost. He sipped on his beer, eyes not once leaving 'The Wall', as his phone went off. He knew it was probably either Natasha or Sam, well aware he had avoided both of them for the past seven days. Come to think of it, he was surprised no one had barged in on him, demanding for him to leave the apartment. Although it would be only a matter of time until either of them would show up. Or worse, team up. 

 

Steve decided this was as good a time as any to listen to the messages and after the phone went quiet he put it on speaker and listened to his voicemail. The first was from Sam, asking how he was doing and if he was still interested in coming down to the VA but assuring him right away if not they could still hang out and have a beer. It was Natasha after that, asking how he was doing and how she was wondering if they should meet up with Clint for a little get together. Steve found himself smiling at the idea, considering to accept the offer as he remembered this was an old message. Sam left two more messages, the first one still sounding rather worried and tired while the second was more along the lines of 'Do I have to drag your sorry old ass out of that apartment or what'. The last message was left by Natasha and this time her voice was all business, the way she sounded when on a mission.

 

"Rogers, I don't know what is going on, but we need backup. I sent you the coordinates. Meet us there tomorrow at ten."

 

Steve frowned at the message, picking his phone up to call her but Natasha's was turned off. He knew she wasn't cleared yet, so what was she doing and who was we? Clint, probably. But why did they need him? 

 

Although his brain was telling him to stay and let her deal with her mess herself, Steve still felt as if he owed her one for the bullet. His mom once told him he would always find his way back home, which was why he knew right away Natasha wanted to meet him in Brooklyn. He couldn't say how he felt about it as he got up and gathered some clothes, including his battle suit, shoved everything in his backpack. If this was some kind of off the record, he knew he had to keep a low profile. After he got his shield into the travel-sleeve, he checked his pockets for his keys and wallet before he headed out. It was four in the morning when Natasha called him, if traffic wasn't too bad he could make it with his bike within four hours, but better to be careful. 

* * *

Steve arrived at Atlantic Avenue around nine. The highway wasn't exactly empty, but the bike had its perks, only stopping twice for gas and food. He still had an hour to kill, so he parked his bike and got his bags before finding a coffee shop where he could wait. The second he was seated and asked for a coffee and some eggs on toast for another breakfast, he got his sketchbook out and started his new drawing. Being back home, his home, sent his senses into overload. He sketched his mom in her sunday dress coming out of the church, holding her hat so the wind wouldn't blow it off; he drew that night when he and Bucky came back from the dance hall, Bucky so drunk he couldn't stand upright, he remembered how completely disheveled he had looked. No, Steve thought, that was not what he thought Bucky looked like back then. Back then Steve thought that this probably was how Bucky looked like after a good fuck. There was this blissful smile on his lips while biting his bottom lip, hair coming loose and falling into his hooded eyes. He wore an undershirt, suspenders still up while his pants had been open. Steve had looked helpless at him, not sure why this view had ruffled him so badly he didn't want to lie down next to him like all the nights before. This was Bucky, his best friend. But if he was his best friend, then why did he want to touch him so badly? The thought had frightened Steve and instead of joining him he had laid down on the couch. His back had been worse than usual the next day and he couldn't look at Bucky for the rest of it. If Bucky had noticed anything, Steve couldn't say for sure.

 

"Your boy?" The waitress caught Steve off guard. She looked kindly at him, a knowing smirk on her lips as she looked at his drawing while she filled his coffee up again. In this moment Steve was this tiny kid again, feeling like he was caught doing something forbidden.

 

He closed the sketchbook and only smiled at her in reply, not feeling like saying anything at all. It had been so obvious, he couldn't understand how Bucky let it slip, even feeling like he was nothing special to Steve. There was no doubt in his mind part of Steve wanted for Bucky to be here with him because of what had been left unspoken, it was so selfish he sometimes wanted to punch himself for the things he did only to cause others so much pain. In this case it was Sam and apparently Natasha, both of them worried about him, right there in front of him. He shook his head in a vain attempt at getting rid of his doubts and fears. After all he was now in Brooklyn, ready to help Natasha with whatever trouble she was in. 

* * *

Steve paid for his breakfast and left the coffee shop around ten, walking back to where he had left his bike, knowing it was the exact location where Natasha wanted to meet. And sure enough, he found her with Clint on a bench. Both wore sunglasses, Starbucks in hand and laughing at something Clint had said. Natasha was the first to see Steve. Slowly she pushed her sunglasses up, looking at Steve in what he could only describe as confusion.

 

"Don't say you haven't expected me?" Steve said as he was close enough, hands in his jeans pockets as he looked down at the two. Clint was looking up at Steve over the rim of his glasses, a frown on his face. 

 

Neither of them spoke and slowly Steve wondered what this was all about, as Natasha got up and reached her hand out to touch his face just for Clint to stop her.

 

"Don't startle him or he will disappear."

 

"You have a beard. I wasn't even sure if you could grow a beard. It's a good look." Something shifted within seconds and Natasha looked at him very approvingly. 

 

"Here, take this and sit down. It's way too early anyway," Clint mumbled and pressed another Starbucks cup into Steve's hand.

 

"You needed backup," was all he could say as he looked from Natasha to Clint and then back, seeing Clint turning to Natasha as well.

 

"Backup? You called him and told him we would need backup? You are ice cold, Tasha." Despite his words Steve could hear Clint was actually smiling, approving of what Natasha had done. As for him, he didn't feel like dealing with this. He was fuming, his heart racing far too quickly and he felt dizzy, knowing he couldn't keep his cool if he stayed a second longer. 

 

He dropped the cup into the trash next to the bench before he turned to his bike and got on it, fumbling with his keys for a second too long. Natasha caught up and taking them from his fingers. 

 

"You are in trouble," Natasha said matter-of-factly, face intense as she tried to read Steve who had a hard time not to fight her for his keys. "What did you find in those boxes?"

 

"How did you know about..." Steve stopped himself. Even after all the times he had watched Natasha interrogating others, he still fell for her tricks. Now probably even more prone to with the lack of sleep and the anger coursing through his veins. 

 

"You know you can talk to me, Rogers. Let me help you. You came here as you thought I was in trouble, this goes the other way around."

 

Steve looked over at Clint, finding him still sitting on the bench and sipping on his coffee. "I can't."

 

"How bad is it?"

 

Steve had always been a bad liar, there was no way to deny it, and lying to a spy seemed useless. Yet, he didn't know how to make her stop asking. "Why do you want me here?" he asked instead, eyes trying to find a crack in her perfect mask. "Did Sam make you do it?"

 

"Sam? No. Good to know he is on your case as well, though." With a sigh, she pushed his keys back into his hands, fingers lingering for a moment. "Whatever it is that is chasing you, why you hide and let your usual routine slip, I do have your back, Steve. That is why I wanted you here. To see how you were doing. I had no right lying to you. I'm sorry."

 

The second he felt the warm metal in his hand, Steve's mind was yelling at him to start the bike and head back to DC. Instead he sighed, looking at the key and then back at Natasha, before he got off the bike. "One day. Then I have to go back."

 

"One day sounds fine to me."

 

Steve looked over at Clint and saw him reaching up to his ear, smiling as he noticed how he switched his hearing aid back on before joining them. "Everything figured out?"

 

"Kind of," Natasha replied, looking over at Steve questioningly, as if she was silently asking him for confirmation.

 

"So what now?" Steve wanted to know, still not sure why Natasha brought him here.

 

"Now, Rogers, you will show us your Brooklyn."

 

If Steve looked down at the pavement to hide his eyes getting teary, no one would know and he wouldn't tell anyone.

* * *

Five hours later, Steve, Natasha and Clint were back at his bike. He had taken them to the place where his old apartment had been, telling them of his life with his mother and later with Bucky. They had even visited his old school grounds and stopped at the wharf where Bucky had worked. Most of the places were so different, Steve had a hard time recognizing them; his memory was still so familiar with the old buildings, he could see them right before his eyes. They thought about going to Coney Island, but Steve decided to do that another time seeing Clint wanted real food. 

 

"What do you consider real food?" Natasha wanted to know with a roll of her eyes, Steve leaning against his bike as he listened to them bickering. If it had been for him they would grab pizza and be done with it, but Natasha made it very clear this was not what she considered real food. At least not at such an occasion. 

 

He tried to distract himself, looking at the cars passing by and then at the store behind Nat and Clint. The letters 'Urban Outfitters' above the door didn't catch his attention. Neither the clothes in the window. What had his heart beating fast in his chest was the flash of a face in the store. A familiar face, one he had drawn a thousand times by then. Without a word, he pushed from the bike and past Natasha and Clint. He couldn't remember how he got up the stairs or opening the door, all he remembered was that voice luring him deeper into the store. 

 

Steve stopped dead in his tracks the second he saw him.

 

"Bucky?"

 

Bucky was talking to two girls, saying something about the right color scheme Steve couldn't care less about. All he cared about was this was Bucky. He looked different, bulkier than the last time he had seen him. His hair was long and tied in a messy bun, some strands still too short were tucked behind his ears. Bucky's jaw and cheeks were covered with stubble; it made him look older than his twenty-eight years, Steve thought, but it suited him. Just as the loose-knit sweater, some meshes torn and stretched enough for Steve to see skin shining through. His eyes wandered further down Bucky's body, down his long legs covered with a pair of black, ripped pants and finally stopped at black boots. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Faintly he could hear himself repeating Bucky's name again before he walked over to him and pulled him into a tight hug.

 

Apparently Bucky was too startled, a soft 'Ooof' all he could say, as Steve pressed him against his body. 

 

"Hey, I know I'm very huggable, but I'm at work..." Bucky said and Steve could feel hands patting his back.

 

"Buck?"

 

"Well, I'm not sure who that Buck guy is and as much as I would like to keep hugging, but I'm not him."

 

Steve froze, arms still holding Bucky in his arms. He noticed from the corner of his eyes that one of the girls was taking a picture, then there were steps behind him and Clint speaking up," Steve? You might want to let that poor guy go."

 

Slowly, Steve did what he was told and looked at the man in his arms. This was Bucky. His Bucky. But if this was Bucky, then why was this guy looking at him with such surprise.

 

"Wow, okay. My day could have been worse," Not-Bucky said, a smile on his face. "Guess it's not every day people get hugged by you."

 

"Steve?"

 

Steve still had his hands on Not-Bucky's shoulders, eyes staring back into that familiar blue-grey. And yet this didn't seem to be Bucky? Bucky would recognize him, right?

 

Steve felt a hand on his own shoulder, forcefully pulling him back. "Hey, sorry, man. Long week and all." Clint.

 

"No, it's fine. I'm a bit surprised, that is all," Bucky said, brushing some strands of hair behind his ear as he continued smiling at Steve. "Like I said, definitely made my day."

 

It was so hard to pull his eyes away, but Clint was turning him away and pushing him out of the store. Steve could see Natasha outside, talking to someone on the phone. 

 

"Steve, what is going on?" Clint again, one hand on his back, the other on his shoulder as he tried to navigate him out of the store. But not before Steve could turn around once again, seeing Bucky watching them worriedly. 

 

"Was this Captain America?" One of the girls asked.

 

"Call him by his name, Angie. His name is Steve Rogers," Bucky said before he turned back and the door closed behind Clint and Steve.

 

"What was that all about?" Clint asked Steve, crouching in front of him. Steve couldn't remember sitting down on the same bench Clint and Natasha had been waiting for him. He couldn't even remember how to breathe, one hand rubbing soothing circles over his back, while Clint tried to make him look at him. "Hey, Cap? You with me?"

 

"Did you hear what he said?" Natasha.

"He said a name. I think it was Bucky?"

"Bucky Barnes?"

"He only said Bucky."

"I called Sam."

"Do I want to know why you have his number?"

"He is working at the VA in DC. It's not that hard looking him up online"

"And what are we gonna do now?"

"I called Tony, telling him we gonna bring a guest. We will wait for Sam there. I will get us a cab."

 

Steve let them talk, not caring for what was gonna happen. All he cared about was he found Bucky. He couldn't explain it, but he would bet his life on this man in the store being Bucky, but nothing made any sense to Steve. The way Bucky had looked at him in surprise had stung, but nothing could overpower the feeling of seeing him. 

 

He acted on autopilot as Clint pulled him up and shoved him into the back of a cab, only dimly aware of Natasha telling the driver to get them to Stark Tower. All the while Steve was thinking about the familiar body he had been holding only seconds ago and how he wanted to turn around and go back into that store, but at the same time afraid his mind had been playing tricks on him all over again. What if his brain only thought this was Bucky, maybe they only looked alike and if Steve would look closer, he would see that the chin dimple was gone and the eyes were a different shade of blue. 

 

Neither Natasha nor Clint talked to him during the ride, not even as they arrived and got out of the cab and inside Stark Tower. Actually Tony had renamed it into Avengers tower, but somehow it didn't fully sink in for either of them. Probably because all of them were far too busy with their own fights and battles and missions. Come to think of it, it was strange how neither of them called the others for help. Maybe it was a sign Natasha had reached out to him although he couldn't tell how she was able to do what he couldn't do on his own.

 

Once inside the elevator, it was Jarvis welcoming them first. "Hello Captain Rogers, Agent Romanoff, Agent Barton. Mr. Stark is still in Malibu , but he asked me to tell you to feel at home and make yourself comfortable."

 

The elevator stopped at the top level, which had been completely refurbished after Bruce had slammed Loki into the floor. No one could tell two natural forces had collided and Steve was glad for that much as he sat down on the couch, still trying to avoid both Clint and Natasha. The former was already disappearing towards what Steve assumed was the kitchen, but Natasha looked straight at him, sitting down close to his side. 

 

"Steve? I need you to tell me what happened in that store."

 

But Steve shook his head. Sam's reaction to his theory had been bad enough, but he knew after what Natasha had witnessed she thought he was close to a break down. Then again, there was a good chance he was right in the middle of one. Elbows on his knees and hands folded, he pressed his lips to fingers and looked out of the window. He didn't trust his voice and he didn't trust himself not pouring everything out after what had happened minutes ago. Steve felt torn open, knowing exactly what Natasha was seeing. He was losing it and he had no way of holding himself together, the threads slowly coming undone. What Steve needed more than anything else in this moment was someone who believed in him and as much as he appreciated Natasha's concern, he didn't trust her with what was burning inside of him.

 

It took another five minutes before Natasha gave up and pushed herself off the couch, heading in the general direction of where Clint was. Steve didn't hear them, assuming they chose to use ASL to communicate rather than letting him hear what they thought of the situation. He did appreciate the sentiment, despite knowing they did it more for themselves than for him. For now he was thankful for the peace he got, his mind running wild with the question of what to do next. His instinct was going back into the store and talk to the man, trying to figure out if his eyes had deceived him so badly. Another part of him wanted him to go back to DC, trying to see how an Urban Outfitters fit into his whole theory. It was such a big coincidence. Or not. Slowly he turned around and looked at where Clint and Natasha had disappeared to. It had been Natasha sending him the coordinates, telling him where they should meet. 

 

As silently as possible, Steve got up and walked over to the door, peeking inside to find Natasha shaking her head while Clint was signing frantically. 

 

"How did you know he would be there?" Steve asked, voice careful and yet leaving no doubt he wanted an answer.

 

Natasha didn't seem surprised finding him in the kitchen, but other than that his question didn't seem to mean anything to her. "Who?"

 

"You know who I am talking about."

 

Steve didn't blink, staring into her eyes in a silent battle, nearly pleading with her to save him from his misery. But all Natasha did was push from the counter and brush past him. He was tempted to hold her back, but Clint was quicker, hand holding onto Steve's upper arm firmly. "You don't believe her, no matter if she is telling the truth or not. Don't ask her questions until you are willing to answer some yourself."

 

Steve waited for Clint to let go of his arm before he turned around and walked back into the living room and straight to the patio doors that lead him out on the terrace. Jarvis closed the doors behind Steve right away and he breathed the first deep breath since he stepped into the store. Steve had felt forlorn before, but this was a moment he could hardly handle. The thought seemed paranoid, but everyone seemed to be playing games with him, leading him around to pick up all the clues just to tell him they meant nothing. How could he believe Natasha she didn't know about Bucky, when she had led Steve straight to him. The idea of her knowing his location all the time burned a hole into Steve's chest.

 

"Captain Rogers?"

 

At this moment, he couldn't say if he wanted to be alone or not, but he decided Jarvis was his favorite company at the moment, although he knew there was a good chance it could change any moment.

 

"You might be interested in a research a group of young students started a while ago. According to this research there might be at least seven people on this planet looking like Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes."

 

With a frown, Steve stared down at the street. "What are you talking about, Jarvis?"

 

"The gene pool might not be as big as we thought it is. The aforementioned students created a website in search for others who look like them. Within a short amount of time, each of the students found people all over the globe who looked the same or similar to them." While Jarvis filled him in, he showed Steve a website with rows and rows of pictures. Some of the people could have been twins, but when Steve looked more closely he found they were, as Jarvis pointed out, thousand of miles apart. 

 

"Mr. Stark wrote an algorithm in order to find others looking like the Avengers," Jarvis added, "We found four people who had a similar face structure to Agent Barton, one match for Agent Romanoff, three for you and none for Tony Stark. It might be a possibility to look into. Oh and Agent Barton ordered pizza."

 

Steve nodded, not feeling as if there was anything more to add. The cool air helped him calm down while he pondered over Jarvis' words. His mind was a tumbling mess, too many pictures and sensations running through him as he tried to make any sense out of what happened earlier. He would have called it a coincidence, but he doubted there was ever such a thing when it came to Natasha. He needed to find out more about this guy working at the store. 

He sat down in one of the lounge chairs, watching the sun slowly going down as Jarvis informed him Sam had arrived. Guilt was eating at him and he ducked his head as he heard the doors being opened and footsteps approaching.

 

"I always thought if I ever make it to the Avengers Tower it would be for a party," Sam joked and Steve could hear the awe in his words.

 

"You didn't have to come."

 

"What? And miss out on this view? No chance, man." 

 

As Steve dared to look over at Sam he found him looking back at him. He looked as tired as Steve felt, but while Steve put it on himself he knew he was probably the main reason for Sam's worry. He definitely didn't want to make it worse. 

 

"There might be some pizza. You just arrived in time." The smile on his face hurt, but Steve knew it was necessary. 

 

"You know I'm not here for the pizza. Natasha said there was an incident." By then Sam had turned his back on New York, looking down at Steve who was still sitting in the lounge chair, arms resting on his thighs. There was a good chance by now trying to pretend everything was under control was useless, after all Sam had seen what Steve was doing in his free time. 

 

"It was nothing. I was running on too little sleep and Natasha caught me off guard." The excuse wasn't even convincing for his own ears and judging by the way Sam's eyebrow rose he didn't believe him either.

 

"Look, I'm here to help. And I can't help when you don't tell me what is going on. If this is still about the..."

 

Before Sam could finish, Steve got up and gave him a light pat on the shoulder. "And I appreciate it. I do. But, Sam, this is nothing anyone can help me with."

 

"Then tell me what you need." The firm set of Sam's jaw, how he crossed his arms over his chest, Steve could tell he wasn't taking another no as an answer. 

 

"I need someone who believes in me," Steve admitted with a sigh, feeling far too vulnerable as he opened up about what he wanted so badly in this moment. It wasn't fair to anybody comparing them to what he had with Bucky or even Peggy, but neither of them doubted him. They believed him no matter what. He knew he was far from stable, no matter if he said it out loud or was trying to keep it to himself, but one person who had his back would make all the difference. 

 

The moment stretched far too long and he knew he was asking too much of Sam, ready to tell him he didn't have to follow him into this madness, when Sam spoke up. "Okay. So...how do we go about this?"

 

For a second, Steve didn't dare look at Sam, afraid he would see the doubt and worry in his friend's eyes that would tell him what Sam really thought about him. But when his own blue ones found those deep brown, he saw nothing but stubbornness and determination. 

 

"Look, I might have said there is a good chance your brain makes these memories up. I never said I don't believe you. Just talk to me so I can help." 

 

"Okay, but first I need to show you something."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian is not _that_ Sebastian. I just decided that this name fitted the best to him, so this is not a Stan/Rogers fic. Also, I do have one more chapter finished which needs some polishing, but right now I'm lacking the time ~~and motivation~~ to sit down and continue writing. So in case anyone feels like lifting my spirits up: comments are ALWAYS welcome!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter alert! And I hope you like it. We get to see more of Seb, so I think that is definitely a good thing. On a different note, thanks for all the people who at least take a peak at the story. I'm not sure how many are actually reading ~~a lot already told me, they won't read it because it's a WiP *sighs*~~ but to the few who read and even leave a kudo: you make this worthwhile :D thanks a bunch

When Steve arrived at the curb next to where his bike was still waiting, he could see the lights in the store were still on. As far as he knew it would close in roughly twenty minutes and while it could be considered creepy, he waited by his bike for the employees to come out. He was not sure how to approach the man, his mind still tempted to call him Bucky. But Steve didn't want to allow himself the illusion consuming his mind. For now he was just a stranger with a striking resemblance to his best friend, still a tiny bit of sanity clinging to what Jarvis had explained to him. 

 

Steve's head jerked up as he heard people coming out of the store.

 

"I won't have this conversation with you, Angie. You shouldn't have taken the picture in the first place." Steve's breath caught in his throat as he heard the voice again. This time he was prepared, trying to remember Bucky's tone to compare it to the man’s coming out of the store and locking the door.

 

"Are you kidding me? Captain America storms into the store and all but attacks you and you..."

 

"And again: Call him Captain Rogers. Because that is his name. Steve Rogers. Even you should know that name. Kind of doubt his last name is America. And if they made him change it I would sue them."

 

A smile was making its way over his face and Steve thought it was endearing how, what he assumed was, a stranger defended him.

 

"What is your problem, Seb? It's not as if he hears me or anything."

 

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you," a third person, another girl, said and Steve found her looking right at him. They were still a couple of feet away, too far away for him to understand them if it wouldn't be for his enhanced hearing. 

 

Seb, as the girl had called him, turned around and looked at Steve with what he could only describe as one of the most genuine smiles he had ever seen. 

 

"Is he waiting for you?

 

"That is creepy."

 

"You two are too much. Just go. I was heading into that direction anyway," he hugged his coworkers goodbye before walking over to where Steve was leaning against his bike, hands tucked into the pockets of his wool coat. There was this swagger in his steps, the way only one corner of those lips curled up in a smile and Steve's heart stuttered all over again.

 

"Told ya I'm very huggable and when I'm prepared they are even better," Seb said the second he was close enough, but still kept his distance. Understandably so, Steve thought, feeling the heat rise up his neck.

 

"Actually," Steve started, not trusting himself to not reach out and pull him closer, so instead he dug his hands even deeper into the pockets of his leather jacket, "I came to apologize."

 

There was a bashful smile on Seb's face as he ducked his head. "Hey, it's fine. Seriously. I admit I was a bit overwhelmed, but that passed rather quickly." A strand of hair was coming loose from his bun and fell in his face, which Seb brushed away quickly, eyes flicking from Steve to the bike and back to the street. It was hard for Steve to watch, every movement and word so familiar. 

 

"Oh, by the way," Seb stepped closer, extending his hand for Steve to take. "Sebastian."

 

It took a lot of willpower for Steve not to correct him, knowing it would be wrong to push when this was still very fragile. "Steve Rogers, but I guess you knew that already." He took the hand and shook it, his heart beating too fast upon the touch.

 

"To be honest the beard threw me off, but I guess it does make it easier for you to walk around in the streets without everyone pushing their babies on you," Sebastian joked, tucking his hand back into his pocket. "I do have to apologize for my co-workers. Angie was a bit enthusiastic and took a picture of the incident, but I made sure she deleted it."

 

Steve just waved it off, still smiling. "I appreciate it. Hope she sent it to you before she got rid of it." Apparently it was the right thing to say because Sebastian blushed and rubbed his neck while looking down at the pavement. 

 

"Maybe. I hope that is fine with you?" Sebastian looked indeed a bit concerned what Steve would say, but his smile only grew bigger. 

 

"Hey, I ambushed you. It's fine." He was slowly running out of things to say without grasping for straws. Of course he’d said what he wanted to say, but the idea of leaving now seemed absurd in an indescribable way. But apparently, he didn't have to worry about it.

 

"I was just on my way for a late-night burger. No hard feelings if you have to save the world or want to hang out with your Avengers friends, but..." Sebastian released a breathy laugh and shook his head; Steve could have watched him laugh like this all night.

 

"Sure. The world can do without me for a couple of hours. " Without another thought he pushed from his bike and stepped onto the sidewalk next to Sebastian, who was still smiling at him in that crooked way. 

 

Sebastian led them to a small twenty-four/seven diner three blocks away, their little walk passing in silence. They sat down in a booth in the back, the ones at the windows already occupied. If it wouldn't have been for the other guests, reminding Steve of the year, he could imagine it would be Bucky and him on one of their birthdays. Probably his, Bucky scraping together enough money for them to share a burger and a milkshake for each of them. 

 

"Are you laughing at me?" Sebastian asked, shrugging out of his coat. 

 

"No, this place just reminds me of something."

 

"Wanna share?"

 

Steve wasn't sure if bringing Bucky up would be a good thing to do, but Sebastian asked and after what happened earlier he felt like he deserved a reply. "My childhood friend, the one I grew up with..."

 

"James Buchanan Barnes. I looked him up after you left."

 

Steve shouldn't have been surprised, but it still felt kind of weird hearing Sebastian say this name. He prepared himself for the look of pity on his face, for him to say he was sorry and how he couldn't see the resemblance. Not that Steve would think of it as a resemblance. The longer he was around Sebastian the scarier it was looking at him. As far as Steve could tell, they were one and the same, even the way Sebastian pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his hands, hooking his thumbs through two holes; Steve thought of the sweater Bucky wore during the winter months, when it got too cold. It had been big enough for the two of them, not that Steve had made use of the offer to share it and Bucky's body heat often.

 

"It must be weird looking at me. I thought I was looking in the mirror rather than at a picture of someone who..." Although Sebastian cut himself off, Steve knew what he wanted to say and it stung, but not as badly as it should.

 

"I would be lying if I said it wasn't," Steve said fondly. So far Sebastian seemed fine with Steve seeing what no one else could and he was grateful for it, although he did feel a bit pathetic by now. This was not Bucky. No matter how much he wished he was, so by sitting here and indulging himself on watching him he made the whole situation only worse for him. Then again he seemed prone to clinging to his past or at least to the few things left of it. Peggy was still as a huge part of his life as she was all those years ago and now he was dragging what seemed to be a complete stranger into it as well.

 

"Not that it helps you in any way, but I understand why you reacted the way you did. I can't imagine how I would be feeling."

 

Steve nodded, not trusting himself to speak at the moment. As much as he appreciated Sebastian's words, they sounded like he was offering his condolences and Steve's heart was breaking. The images his mind had provided over the last month let him live in the illusion of Bucky being alive somewhere, as if it was only a matter of time for him to come knocking on Steve's door and telling him he got lost along the way. The idea of not seeing Bucky again never crossed Steve mind, or when it did he tried his hardest to push it as far away as possible. 

 

"Ruined the mood, didn't I?" Sebastian asked after some moments, rubbing the balled up fabric in his hands against each other. "Sometimes I don't know when to keep my mouth shut."

 

"No. It's fine. I guess I'm a bit slow with keeping up with my life," Steve tried to explain, but knew it was no good. Nothing could convey what was going on inside of him and he wished he could just pour it for someone to see and telling him everything would be fine. "We can talk about something else if this is making you feel uncomfortable."

 

"No! No. It just felt as if you didn't want to talk about it. I just wanted to let you know I don't think about suing you, or selling a story. What you're doing...it is remarkable, you know that?" In the one moment, Sebastian seemed so unsure of the words he was saying, as if he was trying to hold back before, in the end, it all burst out. Yet he was saved by the waitress who took their order, or rather Steve let Sebastian order for the both of them. After she left, telling them it won't be long for their order to be ready, they were both silent. Steve because he was hoping for Sebastian to speak up, as for Sebastian, apparently he was struggling for words, chewing on his bottom lip while fidgeting with his sleeves. 

 

"You were saying?", Steve encouraged. 

 

With an embarrassed shrug, Sebastian turned his eyes finally back to Steve. "Just to make this whole thing even more awkward, back when I was in the hospital I had a lot of time to read and for some reason I got obsessed with Captain America. I think I read everything available."

 

"Do I even want to ask what you read?" 

 

"Probably not. Mainly unofficial stuff written by people who maybe stood next to a part of the exhibit and thought they now know everything there is to know. But I did find some interviews with people who actually worked with you. Jim Morita was one of them."

At the name, Steve sat up a bit straighter. After he came out of the ice, he did do some research but mostly who was still alive and who made it out of the war. He never wanted to read about himself, about what the government made him out to be; the little he heard through Fury was enough for him to feel exploited to the point he didn't want to know what others created in their heads to make money with. Now hearing Jim had spoken about their time in the army made him feel uneasy, afraid of what he had to say about him. The Howling Commandos had been his friends, his brothers in arms and still he remembered very well what so many others called him behind his back. He thought back to Hicks and what he had said about Steve and what he had been willing to do for Bucky and he wondered if the Howlies had shared the sentiment.

 

"What did he say?"

 

The smile on Sebastian's face should have been enough for Steve to calm down, but he was on edge. Not only was he looking at the face of his best friend, of the person he was willing to go through hell to get him back, but now he also gave the people long dead a voice to talk to Steve. 

 

"What a great man you are. The interview was taken a couple of years before they found you for, what I think is, the only book worth reading. It contains interviews with Jim Morita, Gabe Jones, I think there was even a part Agent Carter wrote." The waitress came and placed a strawberry milkshake in front of Sebastian and a glass of water on Steve's side of the table before leaving them alone again. Steve was glad for the breather. The longer the conversation went on, the more out of his depth Steve felt, not prepared for the surprises Sebastian was handing him.

 

"You didn't know," Sebastian observed and Steve shook his head. 

 

"I'm not like Tony who has a Google alert set with his name," he joked before taking a sip of his water. He still wasn't sure if he wanted to see what they had to say about him, although he doubted Peggy would ever say a bad word about him. 

 

"Does he? Then again it doesn't seem too surprising." 

 

Steve felt Sebastian's eyes on him and for the first time that night he wanted to leave. Not because he wanted to get away from this man, but because this was a different look than what he was usually faced with. A look that told him he was seen. Not only his shield and the suit he was wearing, but him, Steve. This was something he always wanted and wished for people to do, but now that he was faced with someone deliberately calling him Steve or Captain Rogers he felt out of his depth all over again. 

 

Steve stayed quiet, still unsure if he wanted for Sebastian to continue, but when he did he found himself listening closely. "The book wasn't a huge success, probably because neither of them were washing any dirty laundry, but to me it was an eye opener of sorts. Probably because it was more focused on the man under the suit." Again Sebastian seemed embarrassed about his confession, but Steve appreciated it and somehow he liked the idea of this book, of Morita, Peggy, and Gabe changing Sebastian's view of him, giving them the chance to talk how they were doing now. 

 

"And when you came back you just got yourself dragged into another war. I'm not sure if it's the bravest or most stupid thing anyone ever did, throwing themselves in front of a bunch of aliens after already saving the world." Sebastian looked down at the milkshake, a bashful smile on his face. "Oh my God, listen to me. I'm gushing all over you. You must be thinking I'm a stalker or something." 

 

Under different circumstances, Steve was sure he would have made up a good excuse to leave and forget about this day all together. But with Sebastian he thought it was endearing. This was no hero worshipping like he experienced back at the VA weeks ago. Maybe he wanted his words to mean more, but from what little Steve had seen so far he didn't think Sebastian had any hidden agenda. 

 

"You're talking to the guy who stormed into your store and ambushed you. I'm definitely not one to judge you about that," Steve laughed as he leaned back, eyes wandering over Sebastian again. It still seemed strange to bond with someone who resembled Bucky in so many ways, but maybe, just maybe, this was what people considered fate. He wanted to believe he deserved something good after what he had lost, and maybe this was his good. Another friend who didn't make him feel so alone. Of course there was still the question of what Natasha knew and what his memories meant, but in this blissful moment, he wanted to believe everything was going to be fine. 

 

"True. I guess that makes us even."

 

Steve's eyes followed Sebastian's hand as he brushed another strand of hair behind his ear and noticed the weird look of fingers, frowning as he noticed it was a prosthetic. He was tempted to ask if Sebastian had served their country, but they had just managed to steer away from the awkwardness and settled into something close to comradery.

 

The second their food was delivered the door of the diner was opened and Steve quickly looked down at his plate. He could see from the corner of his eyes how Sam was scanning the tables, looking for a place to sit and decided for a place at the counter, facing their way. Steve could hear him talking to the waitress and only as he cut his first bite and put it in his mouth, did he look over at him and what he saw eased his tense heart. Sam's eyes were flicking from Sebastian's face to Steve’s and then back before turning to the phone in front of him. It was in the way Sam's brows furrowed and his lips pressed together and Steve just knew he could see what Steve had seen back at the store. Steve had a hard time swallowing the bite in his mouth. This was changing so much and while he was still torn, his sane side battling with what seemed impossible, all he wanted in his moment was an explanation for what was happening. 

 

"Okay, so before I pretty much dumped my dirty little secret on you, you were trying to share something," Sebastian said, ripping Steve from his thoughts and he felt caught. No matter what had happened, he was probably dragging a decent human being into something far too big for all of them to handle. Apparently, Bucky - and Steve decided to stick with Bucky - was living a good life, so who was he to meddle?

 

"This diner. It reminded me of the past. Of a birthday with...with Bucky. We barely had enough money for a burger, let alone two. So we shared. I still don't know how he got that money." But maybe I will find out someday soon, Steve added, a comforting smile on his face. Again he looked over at Sam, who just got a box with his food and pushed from the chair. They needed to talk, but first Steve wanted to make the most of their shared meal. 

 

It wasn't that big of a surprise for Steve to find out, they did share some interests. Sebastian loved jazz music, especially from the forties; he read a lot, but mostly history books; when he wasn't working he loved spending time on Coney Island; and he prefered going to the movies to watching TV. There was something about those things that resonated deeply inside of Steve and it fitted just perfectly with what he was trying to put together. If this was Bucky, his Bucky, he probably had lost not only his arm during the crash but also his memory. It still left the biggest question unanswered: who was hiding him and most importantly why. The answer had to be SHIELD if they found him together with Steve, but it didn't make the circumstances any better. What Steve needed now, after someone who was having his back, was some solid proof. 

 

"So you are only here for a short visit?" Sebastian said around three in the morning, both of them wearing big smiles on their faces after all the laughter they had shared. Far too many times, Steve had had to bite his tongue so he wouldn't ask if Bucky remembered certain moments of their past, but apparently he hadn’t messed up. 

 

"Yeah. I'm on leave at the moment. Two more weeks and then I will probably be back in DC." 

 

Sebastian nodded. "I see. Well, it was nice of you to come to our store and fling yourself at me during your leave. Tell me who I should send a card to."

 

"Oh, no card for that guy. Not at the moment. But I take it I wasn't such a bad company then."

 

"Anything but." As the waitress came, Steve paid for them, not listening to Sebastian's attempt to pay for them or at least split; he pretended he didn't see his blush as the waitress told Sebastian he should definitely keep Steve if he was such a gentleman. 

 

After they paid, they left the diner and Sebastian walked Steve back to his bike, both of them sharing some ridiculous story about their jobs.

 

"Okay, I will stop. I can't compete with a superhero. All I get are rude or disgusting customers."

 

"And women who try luring you into the dressing rooms. That must be nice," Steve joked, laughing as he saw the face Sebastian made. 

 

"I had no idea Captain Rogers was so easy."

 

Steve laughed, shaking his head as he stopped next to his bike. "If I was, Natasha wouldn't try to get me to date every time I see her." He looked from the bike to Sebastian. "And you are sure you don't need a lift?"

 

"Thanks, but I'm good. I don't live too far away from here. Also it's already pretty late and it would tempt me to do something stupid."

 

It took Steve a whole second to understand what Sebastian was hinting at, but before he could say anything he already turned to leave. "Thanks for the evening, Steve. I appreciate you taking the time out of your busy schedule."

 

"No need to thank me. I enjoyed talking to you. Made me feel..." 

 

"Made you feel what?"

 

Steve hesitated for a short moment, afraid it would sound too heavy, but right now everything was too heavy for Steve and he had a feeling Sebastian would appreciate his honesty. "Normal." 

 

The smile on Sebastian's face was something else and it was hard for Steve to say what it did to himself. He felt a strange sort of relief and before Sebastian could leave, he pulled him in for a one armed hug. "Have a good night."

 

"You too," he heard him say as he pulled back, this time not looking Steve in the face. 

 

Only as he was on his bike, ready to head back to the Avengers tower, he called out," Let me know when you are back home."

 

"And how should I do that?" Sebastian laughed, turning around and walking backwards as he looked at Steve on the bike.

 

"Look into your pocket."

 

That made him stop in his tracks and as Steve started his bike, he saw him pulling a piece of paper out of his coat pocket. "You're a punk."

 

Steve's heart stopped in his chest.

 

_The recruitment center in his back, Steve watched Bucky heading back to the girls.- He had known the double date wouldn't end well. They never did and still Bucky always made him do it. And Steve agreed to. More to humor him than for himself. He knew, the way he looked, his lungs rattled and how he winced whenever he made a wrong move and his back was acting up, no girl spared him another look. And he couldn't blame them; he preferred looking at Bucky as well. Especially now with the uniform, the way his officer's hat sat crookedly on his head, the wool coat showing off his broad chest and slim waist. Steve hated watching him go, even more so now they had had this stupid argument, but Bucky would never understand._

_"Don't do anything stupid until I come back."_

_"How can I? Taking all the stupid with you."_

_"You're a punk."_

_"Jerk."_

_Steve wanted to cling to Bucky, not wanting to let go. He would never forget the little salute, the lopsided smile and twinkle in his eyes. Never._

 

It took Steve a moment to remind himself he hadn’t traveled back in time, but Sebastian made it hard, with the head tilted to the site, the same smile on his lips, the same twinkle in his eyes. Steve knew his voice was shaky as he called back, "Jerk," and he was tempted to run after him as Sebastian saluted before turning around and walking down the street. Instead he watched him until he turned a corner and only then pulled the bike onto the street. All the time his heart was racing in his chest, especially the last couple of minutes replaying in his head over and over again. He was curious what Sam would say, but even more so he wanted to have his friend back and he wondered which length he needed to go to to help him remember.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are lovely and in case you've questions visit me on [tumblr](http://www.secretly-buckybarnes.tumblr,com)


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